


And You Were There

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27164735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: "Would you like to have sex with me?"For a single moment, and that moment only, Jon is tempted to laugh, pat Richie on the shoulder, and walk away. For that single moment, Jon thinks that his best friend is drunk and is saying stupid things, but then he stares at deep, dark brown eyes, and thinks - 'Oh, fuck. He's sober.'And, with that realization, Jon feels nauseous.
Relationships: Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora
Comments: 14
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

_They say that to really free your body_  
_You've got to free your mind So come on_

"Would you like to have sex with me?" 

For a single moment, and that moment only, Jon is tempted to laugh, pat Richie on the shoulder, and walk away. For that single moment, Jon thinks that his best friend is drunk and is saying stupid things, but then he stares at deep, dark brown eyes, and thinks - ' _Oh, fuck. He's sober.'_

And, with that realization, Jon feels nauseous. 

Jon's mouth is dry, and he swallows thickly, trying to think of something, anything, to say, but of all the times, he suddenly is shy and cannot being himself to say a single word, much less a response to whatever the hell had just come out of hus guitarist's mouth. 

They're alone, and that suddenly scares Jon more than anything, and he hopes desperately that somebody would come and rescue him from this terrible, awful nightmare. Tico, Dave, Alec - hell, Jon would settle for Doc at this point, if only there was somebody here to help him with this mess. 

"Um." Jon finally says, and the world starts spinning, and, wow - ' _That's what the ground looks like?'_

Richie, bless his heart, now looks like he's about to faint. "Oh, fuck. Jon, are you okay?" He asks, and then leans down to help Jon back up, but he's too close and all of a sudden, in that momentary pause from the beginnings of a panic attack, there is a moment of time where Jon almost hits Richie. 

Thankfully, Jon doesn't, and instead scrambles backwards, his boots scraping helplessly at the ground. "Don't - no." He gasps, and his chest feels like it's going to collapse. It feels like his ribcage is going to curl inward and crush his lungs, and Jon knows this feeling more than anything, which is kinda sad and kinda pathetic, now that the topic is up for discussion. 

Richie, for all of his moments of pure idiocy, is a smart guy, and takes a hesitant step back when it all starts to go down with a frightening speed. "What do you need?" He asks, voice sharp but with an underlying tremor of anxiety seeping through, and Jon feels guilty but can't think because he can't breathe, so he tries to set aside that feeling and focus on everything else. 

There were black spots dancing in Jon's vision, so he shut his eyes tightly enough that not even the stage lights could penetrate the bubble that Jon was trying to shove himself into. He tries to calm himself, but then he curls his fingers into the palms of his hands and all that appears is a sharp spark of pain as his nails pierce the thin flesh and blood bubbles up and seeps down, staining Jon's leather pants and falling to the floor that Jon was sitting on. 

"Dave" Jon manages to say in a moment of clarity. "Dave - _David_ _."_

Richie licks his lips and then nods frantically. "Yeah, okay, Dave." He said, and he sprints off, hoping that the area was secluded enough that Jon wouldn't be found, or, alternatively, wouldn't be helped. That thought almost made Richie pause in his tracks, but he didn't, and then he was off, peering around corners for the drummer in mind. 

Jon is still on the ground, trying not to get sick, with his hand between his knees and the words of - ( _failure and weak and little jonny can't even protect himself)_ running through his head. Somewhere through the haze in his head, a memory rears its head, and Jon is reminded of that night and, finally, he can't take it anymore, and he whirls around so fast that it makes his head spin in order to empty his stomach of what little he had eaten. 

"Calm down." A familiar, oddly solemn voice says, and Jon almost wants to yell at the voice but he can't, so he just covers his mouth before he starts to dry heave like the pathetic bastard he is. 

David crouches down, despite the hard, cold concrete below that makes a shiver crawl up his spine _. 'The things I do for these people.'_ He thinks, and then he shoves those thoughts away in favor of playing damage control. Jon is five seconds away from passing out and David doesn't like that pasty white tint his skin had taken to looking and how utterly fucked the vocalist was when it came to dealing with situations like this. 

"Breathe, Jon. Take a deep breathe." David instructs firmly, trying to recall all the bits and pieces of what he was supposed to so because this hadn't happened in months and he had mistakenly thought that maybe it was all over. 

Jon did try to breathe in as told, but panic was overwhelming him and all that resulted was a desperate gasp for air. 

"I'm here with you." Davud said, wishing he was better at comforting people, but all he could do was sit there and pray that it would all be over soon. "Remember? It never lasts long, Jonny." 

Or, at least, it usually doesn't. But David cannot be sure, and hopes that the statement won't be a lie. Then again, this hasn't happened in a long while, and there was no telling how truly bad Jon was panicked. David bit down on one of his nails and glanced behind him at the door - they were backstage, in a room that was, by the looks of it, rarely used, but David knew that they couldn't be caught. 

He hoped that maybe Richie was standing outside near the door, making sure that they weren't bothered. God, he hoped so, because Jon couldn't be seen like this. 

"Breathe. You're not suffocating, it's just the anxiety. Breathe." David says after a moment of contemplative silence broken only by the sounds of Jon choking weakly for air. 

"I can't - I can't _breathe."_ Jon managed to stammer out, his hands gripping at his hair, pulling out the long strands. 

David reached out and took Jon's hands within his own, squeezing them reassuringly. "Yes, you can. You're talking." He pointed out, feeling his heart begin to hurt at how badly his friend was hurting. 

Worse yet were the memories and knowledge of why this was happening. 

But, in the end, maybe it was the touch, or maybe it was just time, Jon managed to breathe, and the sound managed to calm David and steady his heart at the sound. David had been beginning to worry that the attack would not end as they did all those other times, but, instead, continue, until there was no avoiding having to call an ambulance. 

Jon gathered himself enough to have the piece of mind to be embraced, and he flushed red, pulling away and rubbing his arms, avoiding eye contact with a sick desperation that suggested he was regretting everything that had lead up to this one specific moment. 

David let go of one the his friend's hands, but kept the other in a firm grip. There was a small amount of blood staining their skin, but David wasn't concerned. A lot of things could happen in the throes of an attack - or, at least, that's what experience and a psychology book told David, who knew little of such matters and only knew what little he did because of the present situation. 

"What happened?" David asks, keeping his voice low and purposeful. "You haven't had an attack in ages." He could feel Jon shivering in his grip, and so he squeezed the hand and rubbed his thumb over the back, knowing that touch could both make and break the situation. 

Jon shrugs, but then David raised his eyebrows in silent question and Jon was in no such state to hold his own. So, the vocalist sighed, and ran his hand through his hair, frustrated by himself and the whole mess. David was correct in saying that Jon hadn't had an attack in ages - two and a half years, to be exact. Jon knew because he'd been keeping time on a calender, but now, he had panicked and Richie probably hated him now. 

_'Oh, God. Richie.'_ Jon thought, starting to panic again. His stomach was cramping from the lack of oxygen and his chest started to constrict again in warning of an incoming rebound, but David hurried to grab his shoulders and get him to calm back down before they had to do the whole thing all over again. "He's going to fucking hate me." Jon moaned, shutting his eyes tightly against the world, his heart beating fast against his ribs. 

David rubbed his shoulders. "No, he won't. That's not Richie's style." David smiled, knowing that it would calm Jon down more than any words could. "What happened, man? One minute, you were all good and then, the next, you were having a goddamn panic attack backstage." 

"It was -" Jon had to pause, and he shook his head, looking tired and defeated by the utter terror that had enveloped him so completely. "It was so stupid. Richie just - oh, shit." 

"What?" David leans toward, as if awaiting some sort of juicy details as to what had caused the panic attack. His hand raised, and he pushed some of Jon's hair away from his face so they could look clearly at each other. 

Jon felt like the guilt was about to overwhelm him. "He said - no, he asked me if we could - no." Jon felt David's grip on him tighten briefly. "Richie said that he wanted - well, okay, he _asked_ if I wanted to have sex with him." 

A moment of silence served as a response to Jon's plight, only interrupted by the sound of heavy breathing. David looked startled and confused, his eyebrows drawn down and his lips pressed thin, evidently taken off guard by the confession. "He what?" The keyboardist said, unable to get it through his head. 

Nodding, Jon started playing with a loose thread on his shirt. "He asked if I wanted to have sex with him." He said softly. Jon knew that David didn't have a problem with such things, but it still made him nervous how there was no response for such a long period of time. 

Eventually, David managed to find his voice again. "Well, that's - um - sudden, isn't it?" He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, which looked quite terrified. "He just said it? Like that?" 

Jon nodded. "Just like that." He sighed, and his shoulders slumped, as if the weight of the world had suddenly fallen upon him. "He probably thinks I'm a fucking freak now." 

"Well, no." David awkwardly stood up, his legs shaky after sitting in such a cramped position for so long. A small smirk began to play at the edges of his lips, as if was actually amused by the whole situation. "Do you feel the same?" 

"Do I want to have sex with Richie?" Jon said. 

David shrugged. "Do you have any feelings pertaining to Richie whatsoever?" He asked, brushing off his pants and crossing his arms over his skinny chest, looking down at Jon with a scrutinizing gaze in his eyes. 

Jon frowned, feeling immensely awkward by the question. "Yeah." He admitted after a long moment. "I want to have sex with him. I've been wanting to do it for years! But - I ruined it, didn't I?" 

With that question hanging in the air, Jon felt like a child, looking up to somebody to help answer a question that shouldn't have ever been asked. He loathed it with every fibre of his being, but yet, there was something about David, as fucking crazy as he was, that provided safety. 

"No." David offered his hand, and Jon took it so that he could be pulled up with ease. "Just give me a minute, okay? I'll go talk to Richie, see where his head's at." 

And, in a split second, Jon's eyes met David's, and they seemed to undergo a silent communication that words couldn't suffice. 

Jon nodded, and David left, shutting the door firmly behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm venting through my characters and have been for this whole time. 
> 
> I know, shocking, right?


	2. Chapter 2

Words couldn't describe how relieved David was to see that Richie was standing outside. 

Richie had his arms crossed and tongue sticking out from between his teeth in absent thought. His hair was messy, and his eyes were dark with thought, but as soon as he saw David emerge from the dark room, he quickly hurried over. 

"Is everything okay?" Richie asked, panic clear in his tone. "Is Jon okay? I messed up, Dave!" He grabbed the keyboardist by the shoulders and shook him slightly for emphasis. 

David was too tired for this, really. "Calm down, bud." He said, gently pushing the older man away from him. The bright lights made David's eyes hurt, and he wondered how long he and Jon had been inside that dark room. Not for long, surely. Ten minutes, at most, but time sped by when one person was having a goddamn panic attack and the other just wanted to sleep, really. "Jon's fine, he's just really fucking nervous about some things, y'know? Like drugs and planes and unfamiliar places and sex." David could list them all off the top of his head. 

Richie furrowed his eyebrows. "He's been fine about sex before." He pointed out. 

"Well, yes, but also, no." David felt like a psychologist, he really did. "You see, something happened a few years ago, and Jon really never saw anybody about it except for -" David motioned to himself. "- yours truly, and, okay, the thing is that some lady did something to Jon back in his bar days and - yeah." 

This wasn't turning out well. 

"I'm not following you." Richie said, shaking his head, looking so confused that it was hard not to feel bad for the poor guy. After all, he had just essentially confessed to something (in his own way), but instead of a hopeful response, or even a semi-normal one, the guy he had some sort of feelings for, instead, had a panic attack. 

Oh, well. They were Bon Jovi, when was anything expected to be normal? 

David struggled to put hid thoughts and memories into words, and he reached out and grabbed Richie, pulling him along until they were a good distance from the door. Jon probably wouldn't do well with rehearing his old trauma being brought up in a social setting, even though he had told David, in a silent sort of way, to just tell Richie. 

"I mean that, um." David could feel the awkwardness begin to get even worse, and hated it. "So, back _then,_ like, six years ago, back when Dave Sabo was our guitarist, there was this lady at one of the bars and, well, Jon got drunk and couldn't really say 'no'." David winced. "You know the story." 

Yes, Richie knew the story, much more than he needed to. His grip on David loosened, and the keyboardist slipped away quickly before he was captured again. 

"So, he panicked?" Richie said, figuring that out quickly enough now that the story was up and out. He was starting to feel nauseous and guilty for being the one to send the whole situation spiraling, because if he hadn't said anything, then everything would be okay. Richie would still be left with his feelings locked up with a hidden key, but at least Jon would be okay, still. 

David saw the look in Richie's eyes, and hurried to get all of those guilty thoughts far, far away. "No, don't even think about it, Sambora. Ain't a single thing about this your fault, or Jon's, or mine, or anybody's else's except for that lady, and she's long gone. Jon just panicked, but he feels guilty about it." David shrugged at the rather flabbergasted expression on Richie's face. "He thinks you won't like him anymore." 

Richie rolled his eyes. "God, he's fucking ridiculous." He said with a fond smile, shaking his head at the mere thought. But the smile faded quickly, and Richie soon began to look worried. "What am I even supposed to do? Dave, I'm really out of my element here." 

David could understand what Richie was feeling - after all, he had felt the same back when the mess had happened at first. "Well, I think that I should go and get our dear friend, and you can talk some sense into him, okay?" He pat Richie's shoulder one more time. 

"I don't think that'll be necessary." Richie said, and he grabbed David so he could turn the other man around without a single warning. David yelped in surprise as he was whirled around, and proceeded to come face-to-face with Jon, who had regained some color and was smiling, at least, but there was clearly something wrong. 

David flinched in surprise, but was otherwise pleased to see his friend. "Oh, there you are!" He said cheerfully. "I was just gonna get you. Well, anyways, Tico, Alec and I were gonna go play a game of checkers so I gotta _go."_ He leaned closer to Jon, hoping not to be overheard - or maybe being heard was the best thing in their situation. "Just say what you feel, Jonny." David whispered, before making his getaway. 

Don't get him wrong, David loved his friends, but he was exhausted. 

And as he walked down the hall and disappeared as quickly as he'd come, there was an uncomfortable silence that fell upon the two men as they thought about the last half hour. 

Richie didn't quite know what to say, but he knew that something needed to be said, so he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry." He said quietly. "That I - you know." 

Scoffing, Jon shook his head. "It wasn't your fault." He rubbed the bridge of his nose regretfully. "I don't know why I panicked so bad. It was just so sudden and it all came rushing back." 

Jon hated it whenever the attacks happened. He hated the terror that always overtook him, and hated how helpless he got. Poor David always got roped into dragging him back down, and Jon wished more than anything that it had just never happened. 

But despite that, Jon liked Richie, more than a friend should like a friend, more than a _guy_ should like a _guy,_ and wasn't that more important? 

"It's okay." Richie leaned casually against the wall. "When it first happened, I thought that you were disgusted by - well, me." He smiled. "I did ask for it weirdly, didn't I?" 

Jon laughed and stepped toward. "Yeah, that was a little weird." He agreed, but then he reached up, and slowly pressed his hand against the side of Richie's face. 

"But it's the best way that anybody has ever asked me." Jon said. 

Jon leaned toward, using the lapels of Richie's jacket to pull himself up. "So, when you said you wanted to have _sex_ with me, did you mean, like, just sex, or something more?" 

Richie grinned. "Oh, definitely something more." 

And then he leaned down to claim the kiss he'd been waiting years for. 

\------

"I told you!" Alec said loudly. " _I told you!"_

Tico frantically shushed him. "Be quiet, Such! Do you _want_ to get caught?" He hissed. 

David smiled serenely. "Now, they can stop staring at each other from across the room." 

At this, Tico laughed. "Oh, really? We all know that it will only get worse." 

Alec nodded in agreement. "We're doomed." 


End file.
